Criminal
by Scarlet Ibis
Summary: How exactly did Spike leave the bathroom? What words were said? How did Buffy end up on the floor, and how could Spike possibly leave his coat, and so forth? Well, here's my interpretation of that scene before the Xan Man comes barging in...


A/N: First, thanks to DreamsofSpike for betaing. I've been thinking about this scene for quite some time, and last night, the need to write it took over me (or maybe it was further procrastination of doing my homework...) Oh, and from "Afterlife" to "As You Were," I counted out the airdates, added them up...and the number of days that Spike and Buffy spent as friends and lovers shocked me.

* * *

He had to make her see.

She loved him. He had felt it before. He had seen it in her eyes. The last time they had been together, she had been so tender, so loving. The way she had looked at him...

She could feel it again; he knew that she could.

She had to feel it. He wasn't alone in this. He couldn't be. Not now.

_She loves me. She felt it before. She loves me. She loved me. She'll love me..._

He knew that if he could just…

And then, his body was kicked across the room, and he crashed into the shelves on the wall, the trembling pain in her voice dragging him back to the harsh horror of reality.

"Ask me again why I could never love you!" Buffy shouted at him, tears running down her cheeks.

Spike just stared at her, confusion all over his face.

"My god, Buffy. I didn't--"

"Because I stopped you!" she cut in. "Something I should have done a long time ago," she added, clutching her robe to her defensivley. She stared him down with righteous indignation, as he leaned against the wall, looking down at the floor.

"Because you stopped...how was I supposed to have…" Spike's voice broke, his face crumpling in pain as he looked at her. "How was I to know, Buffy?"

"No,_ I_ should have known not to expect anything from you. You aren't a man--just a soulless _thing_," Buffy snapped in a voice of fierce disgust. "But know what you aren't? Blind, or deaf. I was _hurt_, Spike. I told you _no_!"

"I've been hurt too, damn it! And _I've_ said _no_," Spike exclaimed passionately, staring her down. "You hurt me, and now I've hurt you. Round and round we bloody go, pet. You've almost always told me to stop...and there've been times when I've said no, and you just kept..."

Buffy's mouth parted slightly, and she slowly sank down onto the cold, tiled floor, her strength leaving her with the impact of his words. She leaned against the tub as realization dawned on her, looking up at him.

"We both know that deep down we didn't mean it. Couldn't resist, like an addiction. Only this time, you did. But how was I to know that? Tell me. Please." Spike's voice softened to a whisper, desperate for her to understand, desperate for her to explain.

She didn't.

She couldn't.

Spike sighed, looking away from her briefly.

"We were both right, you know. Great love does burn and consume until there's nothing left. And damn it, there's nothing left of me. I don't even know who I am anymore, Buffy. Or why I feel the way I...why I feel _anything_. But I do. All I ever do..." He scoffed derisively, a bitter smile on his lips. "I'm a soulless demon, sure. But this," he paused, slapping his left hand over his unbeating heart, "doesn't seem to care."

Clenching his fists, he dropped his head again, unable to hold her gaze. He walked the length of the bathroom, silent, heading for the door. He grabbed the doorknob and paused, leaning his forehead against the door, a choked sob escaping his lips. "When I love someone, it's typical for it to be painful for me. I was used to it hurting. But I never thought that...never even dreamed that my love would _ever_ hurt you. That's the last thing that I wanted." He sighed, not sure if she was even listening, but he ploughed on anyway. "I only wanted to help. I only wanted you to be happy. To acknowledge my feelings. I wanted you to love me back. But you can't. I don't deserve it. I'm nothing," he admitted quietly.

And suddenly, it was all too much--it felt as if his heart was being crushed. The pain--he needed it to stop. It hurt now more than ever. Tightening his grip, he turned the knob and opened the door slowly, silently begging his tears to recede. He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him. Once he heard it click, he heard her muffled voice through the door.

"I'm sorry, Spike."

He clenched his jaw at that. He was hurting, but he also felt angry -- angry at the fact that she got to him so much. Angry that he felt guilt at all, and saddened by the fact of what had almost occurred, and guilty again for feeling that anger in the first place. He was confused; he was a demon, yet he loved so strongly and so deeply that it brought him crashing to his knees.

Literally.

He bit his lower lip, digging his fingers into his thighs as he sat there on the carpeted hallway floor. He looked up and saw the smiling face of Buffy looking happily down at him, an image from a long ago time, back when her hair was long and her eyes still shone with fire and life.

The pain intensified as he realized how dated the photo was. He hadn't seen her that happy since...since before Joyce had died. He jerked his eyes away from the photo, feeling that it was a mockery of what he thought he had had with her for one hundred and forty seven days.

Before white bread came back to town, of course, and ruined everything.

_Funny how the number of days we spent together was the exact same number of days she was gone._

Spike shook his head and took a few deep, calming breaths. He roughly wiped the tears from his eyes, and lifted his knees up, pressing the balls of his feet into the floor as he stood up in one, fluid motion.

Pushing all thoughts from his mind, he rushed down the stairs and fled the Summers' home, refusing to look back.


End file.
